Time for a blog rant! 

Please don't read further if you are expecting a fun and frolicking blog from me today!

Ok, 2012! I've had enough now. Stop it! You have taken my partner, my job and now my dog.

Almost a year to the day that Vicky was told that there was something seriously wrong with her, I have received news that Inca also has cancerous tumours in his chest and lung. Yes, he's just a dog and yes, he is nearly 12 years old - about average for a Labrador. But, FFS, who have I pissed off so much?

Inca started to be ill in early november, when he developed a quite distressing cough. Thinking it might be kennel cough, his vet gave antibiotics.  However, these didn't seem to be hitting the spot.

Other than the cough, Inca was relatively happy.  His tail wagged high when out for walks and he had a good appetite. When, a couple of days ago, he only ate half of his breakfast, I began to get worried.  Inca never leaves food - especially his own. His vet referred him to a specialist in Ringwood and I took Inca there on Thursday (29th Nov).

The specialist checked Inca over and then gave me a list of probable causes - starting with a seed, or other foreign body stuck in his throat; maybe an infection or laryngal paralysis; and ending with the possibility of a tumour or other more 'sinister' cause. However, he reassured me that the latter was 'way, way down' his list of likely diagnoses.

Later that day he called to tell me that the x-ray had revealed the presence of a mass in his chest and that there was fluid in his lungs. His list had just been turned upside down.  He drained nearly 2 litres of fluid from Inca's lungs and a subsequent x-ray confirmed mass in one of his lung nodes.  A biopsy will help determine whether the tumours are benign or malignant, but the prognosis is pretty grave in either case.

If they are benign, surgery may be an option. However, given his age and the likelihood that they may return along with the fluid on his lungs, there would be quality of life issues.


Jump forward three days

On Saturday morning, the specialist called to confirm that the biopsy results indicated soft tissue sarcoma (STS).  The fact that the sample was taken from a site away from the primary cancer in his lung suggested that metastasis had occurred - in other words, the cancer had spread. The only way to confirm this with precision was to operate to remove the primary cancer and take a full tissue biopsy. However, that the spread had happened was an almost certainty, therefore the operation would be futile, beyond analytical purpose.

Enough is enough. Having seen the ravaging effects of cancer already this year, I couldn't let Inca go through what would be to come, not when there was a peaceful and dignified end to his life that could be chosen.

Over the following 48 hours I felt that this decision was wholly vindicated.  I had the chance to spend some time with my little man. I let him sleep in my bed - a treat usually only accorded following copious amounts of alcohol - and we went for a couple of pleasant, if short, walks. We also had a couple of visits to the King Charles pub where, for the past 11 years, he has generally been more welcome than Vicky and I! He feasted on Mackerel - courtesy of Lynn, his dog walker - and Tuna. However, from Friday, he wasn't really interested in food and it was obvious that eating was a reflex action rather than the hobby that he had previously enjoyed. This was exemplified when we visited a friends house and he immediately headed for the unattended bowl of food belonging to Jerry - the incumbent springer spaniel - only to look up at me as if to say 'Do'ya know what? I can't be arsed!'

By monday morning, his lethargy and lack of appetite were, without doubt, both at a new low.  He didn't want to walk or eat and his body was quivering. I made the fateful call to the vet just after lunch.  In an odd way, I was shocked when he said that I could bring him over that evening - it all seemed too quick.  However, once I had taken stock and spoken to friends, I resolved that the time was right and that to linger would only be for my benefit and that Inca's state was deteriorating at a rate that would result in his suffering, distress and pain.

At 6pm, accompanied by friends, Barbara and Freya, we went to the surgery. The process was quick, painless and clinical.  Inca's vet has never been known for his bedside manner and doesn't really do 'touchy, feel'y'. Us three friends were in tears as he, with great care and compassion, slid a needle under the skin and into a vein on Inca's foreleg. Within seconds, Inca's body became limp and he slowly sank down onto the table.  A minute later...'That's it. He's gone now'. The vet knew that this was the correct thing to do and tried to reassure me that the decision and the time was right. He would not have allowed otherwise.

All of a sudden, I felt that I was in the final chapter of 'Marley and Me'. It was so hard to walk away from my puppy lying on the table, but the time had come and so I did. Outside, in the dark of a Kings Worthy evening, we three cried and hugged and then drove back down the hill to home.

So now, for the moment, it is just me. Except that it isn't. I have many wonderful friends and a terrific family. I have a ticket for St. Petersburg in my pocket and a train ride through Siberia to Beijing ahead of me. When I get there - somewhere around the 4th January 2013 - it is very much a case of 'flip a coin' to see where I go next.  It will be roughly south toward South-East Asia and then to North-East Australian and New Zealand. I expect to be home in mid-June, just in time to go and work the bars at Glastonbury festival.

Thank you for reading this far. I intend continuing my blog as I travel over the next six months and I promise - and hope - that future posting will be more positive and uplifting. To all my family, friends and readers I say 'Bollocks' to 2012, roll on 2013 and I wish you all a happy, health and prosperous Christmas and new year.

Postscript

Negatives: No more hairy cuddles; quiet and empty house when I get home; no licks and attention when I'm sad; lack of unconditional companionship; less motivation to go for long 'health giving' walks (HGW's according to Jolly vernacular)

Positives: I get to lie in; I don't have the embarrassment of having to replace numerous picnics trough'd by my dog who would always run and reach the source of tasty canapes ten minutes before my fat carcase could ever catch him to intervene - what always surprised me is that, when I did arrive at the the scene, parents were inevitably clutching crying children to their bossom. Why? it was the bloody food that needed protecting, not the child!!